


If It Goes Anywhere

by TheMoreLovingOne



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: F/M, Rare Pairings, Romance, Slice of Life, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-04-23 11:08:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14331168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMoreLovingOne/pseuds/TheMoreLovingOne
Summary: “So uh… You’re not gonna do the whole Breakfast Club thing where you ask if this will all still stick on Monday, right?” she asked, half kidding, half not. Michael rolled his eyes.“No. It’s dinner, Brooke, not marriage. It genuinely doesn’t matter if it goes anywhere.” He fiddled with his strings again. Brooke wondered if he did it whenever his hands were empty.





	1. Halloween

“...I’m sorry.”

Jeremy’s eyes met hers, just for a moment. He looked lost. But how could he be lost after just having had Chloe all over him? How could he be lost when he was in the wrong? Brooke couldn’t think of anything to say, so she just stared at him. She could feel a cringe of betrayal spread across her face and for a second, she didn’t care.

 She felt Jeremy push her aside, felt Jake follow, but she was busy making eye contact with her “best friend” in the next room. Chloe’s eyes were challenging, mocking, with the kind of malicious sparkle in them that she’d been giving everyone else since Brooke had first met her. Tonight it was directed at her. And tonight she could feel how much it hurt firsthand.

 Brooke didn’t know why she’d expected anything to be different tonight than every other night. Maybe the hope of Halloween had filled her. Maybe it was because Jeremy had seemed so genuine, after the whole mall incident. He’d seemed… normal. Not peacocking constantly like Jake and Rich and Chloe. He was just a guy and she was just a girl and it was normal. But maybe that’s why it was wrong. Maybe normal was wrong. She didn’t know.

 She’d had five boyfriends since junior high. Chloe had stolen them all within a week. She laughed pathetically, feeling tears sting at the corners of her eyes. This had lasted almost three. New record! How fucking stupid. She was stupid. The familiar weight of self-loathing filled her insides. She tried to will it away but she felt surrounded by thumping bass and crushed by the swell of sweaty, costumed bodies- the metaphorical runt of the high school litter.

 It was time to leave. She plastered on a fake smile, feeling her heart twinge as Jake looped back around and the door predictably closed. She should’ve known. Chloe always had to have everything. She was like a black hole, sucking up everything around them, leaving Brooke with nothing but empty space. The frown threatened to break through but she screwed her smile on tighter and slipped downstairs. Cheerful greetings fell from her mouth without thinking as she worked her way through the crowd. It was routine at this point.

 Stepping out into the night was a relief. She took a deep breath, letting the cold air fill her lungs, shock her system awake. Her buzz was long gone, and all that was left was the hurt and the beginnings of a hangover. She paused on the porch, leaning over the railing and looking up at the night sky. It was starry and bright. Not really her idea of Halloween at all. She sighed again, letting her shoulders sag for just a moment before she pulled off the hat and glove parts of her costume and headed to her car.

 Her mother’s car, she should say. The one that got her made fun of endlessly. Her fake smile fell.

Frowning was a relief too. She felt lighter now that she was outside, away from all the people. She unlocked the doors, shoving her “ears” and “paws” into the passenger seat, and was about to get in herself when she saw a flash of red. Michael Mell, pulling his hoodie on.

 “Michael…” she mumbled to herself, recognizing him vaguely. A memory made its way to the front of her mind.

  _"Yes… But, I’m supposed to meet my friend Michael-”_

  _“Oh…”_

 Brooke froze, then kicked her door shut, storming across the pavement to the dusty PT Cruiser she’d seen in the school lot but had never paid attention to before. She didn’t know what she wanted to say, but words were boiling over inside of her and she couldn’t stop herself from spewing them at someone, anyone.

 “Hey! Your friend is a real jerk you know!” she yelled, her voice turning sharp as the tears threatened to fall again. Her steps pounded on the ground, firm and strong. Much stronger than she felt. Michael turned to her, and in the moonlight she could see tear stains glistening on his skin. He looked blank, almost, under the moonlight. She stopped, her own tears forgotten instantly.

 “I know,” he said, his voice soft, broken sounding. Brooke stared at him, stunned. She didn’t know Michael. But she knew this wasn’t him. This wasn’t the boisterous boy who had his headphones all the time, who wrote snarky essays about why the NES was better than the Xbox One. She felt like she was intruding on a stranger. But a sad stranger.

 His eyes were dark and searching. What felt like an eternity passed, and then another century after that.

 “Sorry…” she said. He shook his head, his fingers anxiously twirling the strings of his hoodie. She watched him, then stepped towards him. He stiffened unsurely, but didn’t back away.

 “Look, I know this is weird but… can I hug you? You just look really sad.”

 “Um… sure, I guess.” He watched her, his brow twitching in confusion and his fingers squeezing the strings tight. She met his eyes again, gauging his response. And then she hugged him, softly. He stood, unsure for a moment, then hugged her back, hesitantly. Like he was afraid of doing it wrong. Or afraid of it going wrong in general. He smelled like cinnamon and beer and very very faintly of pot. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it was strange.

 “You’re drunk,” he said, but it sounded like a guess. She pulled away, shaking her head.

 “Not anymore,” she replied, her voice soft. Michael studied her, then leaned back against his car.

 “So what’d he do to _you_?” he asked. He might as well have been speaking another language with how foreign the whole interaction felt. This was weird. Talking to him.

 “This is weird,” she said, out loud, ignoring the question. Michael nodded, his fingers finding their way to his strings again.

 “You’re telling me. Don’t you have something snarky to say about potheads? Gonna call me a _loser_?” His voice was harsh, and his words were harsher. She shook her head.

 “No. Chloe might, but not me.”

 “Not right now. Wait until Monday when the two of you are thick as thieves and lording over us again. Then you’ll have something to say.”

 Brooke sighed.

 “Probably.”

 “You don’t seem so happy about it,” Michael said, switching from fiddling with his hoodie to messing with his keys.

 “Well are you fully, one hundred percent happy with the role you play in life? Do you like being a nobody, being made fun of, being the weirdo?” Thick and accusatory, the question curled around the two of them like mist. He hesitated, his fists clenching around his sleeve on one side and his keys on the other.

 “I did like it. Before I had to do it alone.” With that he turned and opened his car door. His headphones sat on the passenger side.

  _He must have come out to get his hoodie after he left the party_ , Brooke thought. He picked up his headphones and plugged them in to his phone. Soft twangy reggae gently sounded from them before he placed them against his neck. His face softened slightly. He still looked sad but he looked more… human.

 “Get in,” he said, not meeting her eyes as he slid into the driver’s side.

 “What?” she asked, instinctively taking a step back. He shook his head.

 “Get in. I’ll drive you home. You’re swaying like nobody’s business. I had two beers, hours ago. Come on. It’s safer.”

 Brooke looked at the ground, tucking her hair behind her ear and biting her lip. She thought about it, running the idea into the ground in her mind before she nodded, more for her own benefit than his. She locked her car and slipped around the car, getting in next to him. The car was cool, but warmer than outside. She snuggled into her seat, and he glanced over at her.

 “Cold?” he asked. She nodded and he reached behind them, grabbing a blanket out of the back and draping it over her. “There you go. She warms up fast, so you should be fine in ten minutes or so. You can turn on the radio if you want.” He carefully backed out and started down the dimly lit streets.

 “Wouldn’t it bother you with your headphones on?” she asked. He shook his head.

 “I’m not really listening right now. I just like having them… there, if that makes sense.” He didn’t offer any sort of explanation beyond that and she didn’t ask for one. She slipped her phone out of a hidden pocket in her dress and turned it off. She didn’t really want anyone to be able to get to her right now. She was more than happy to just sit there in the dark with him, in the quiet. It felt… nice. And the blanket was warm, and the car rode really gently. She was warm inside, too. Her muscles were loose, relaxed. She hadn’t felt this relaxed in a long time.

 “Michael…” Her voice was soft now, nervous. Jake’s house disappeared behind them and the anger went with it. She was sad, more than sad. But it wasn’t Michael’s fault. And Jeremy had hurt both of them, from what she could tell.

 “Yeah?”

 “Thank you. You didn’t have to do this.”

 “What was I gonna do, let you get in an accident? No. It’s no biggie.”

“I’m sorry I’m one of them. I’m sorry I’m not… nice, all the time.” She bit back more word vomit, watching him for a reaction. He shrugged.

 “It doesn’t bother me any. I like who I am. I don’t want to be anybody else. I mean, I’m awesome. It doesn’t matter if anyone else notices, because I do. I told Jeremy that all the time, not that it mattered.” Michael said. His voice was annoyed and his hands squeezed the wheel a couple times before stilling again. Brooke watched the stars and the roads go by, lazily.

 “He didn’t really like me. I thought he did. But he didn’t,” she said, testing the waters. Michael nodded slowly.

 “You’re not the only one.” His tone relaxed a little. Brooke reached over hesitantly, then stopped. She had already hugged him. She didn’t want to touch him again. And if she were honest with herself, she really didn’t want to think about Jeremy, and she didn’t wanna think about what he’d done.

 “So you called your car a she,” Brooke probed, searching for something that would let her get under the surface and change the subject.

 “Yep. Her joke name is Mary Jane but her real name is Reese.”

 “After Reese Witherspoon?” she guessed.

 “No after Reese’s peanut butter cups.” He said it so matter of factly that she couldn’t help but snicker. He glanced over at her and she followed his eyes to the seatbelt. He was making sure she was buckled.

 “Well um… You ever notice that Halloween isn’t really… Halloween-y? Like ever?” she asked instead. Michael laughed, a short, quiet sound that was barely a laugh at all.

 “What?” he asked. A small smile played on his lips. Brooke smiled back, heartened that maybe he felt a little better with her like she did with him.

 “It’s never right! Like in the movies the air is chilly but warm enough to go in costumes. The sky is grey. The moon is full. When was the last time we had a full moon on Halloween? Never, that’s when.” She talked with her hands a little, trying to make him smile, laugh, something.

 “How is it supposed to be grey and have a full moon? If you can see the moon it generally implies that the sky is clear.” He said and gave her a tiny smirk.

 “I know! No matter what, Halloween will never be like in the movies.” She giggled, and was pleased when he let out another of his little half-laughs. A tinny ping suddenly sounded and she went to pick up her phone only to stop halfway, remembering that it was off and that her phone didn’t sound like that anyway. Michael glanced at his phone and rolled his eyes.

 “Hey. You like pizza? My dad wants me to bring some pizza home. You could stay for a bit and eat with me.”

 “Sure,” Brooke said. She liked hanging out with Michael more than she thought. Some pizza wouldn’t hurt.

 "What do you like on it?”

 “I’m a just cheese kinda girl,” she said. Michael groaned playfully.

 “Come on, that’s the worst kind of pizza. No pepperoni, no nothing?”

 “Nope. Just cheese.”

 “Okay, how about chicken?”

 “What part of just cheese don’t you- wait, you can get chicken on pizza?” She turned to face him completely, bringing her knees up on the seat.

 Michael laughed at her. “You didn’t know that?”

 “Um, no. I guess I can try that.”

 “Okay, as long as it’s not plain. My dad likes Hawaiian pizza.”

 “Ew, pineapple on pizza,” Brooke grimaced. Michael rolled his eyes, his easy going smirk never leaving his face.

 “Oh, you’re one of those, then. Jeremy too.” Michael handed her his phone. “Here, you place in the order. Get a large chicken and a medium Hawaiian.”

 “Okay. How much money do you want me to get out for my share?” she asked. Michael met her eyes for the first time since they had left the party.

 “None.”

 “Are you sure? I really don’t mind, I mean, this isn’t a date, and even if it were I’d still offer-”

 “Brooke, just let me pay for the pizza okay?” he said insistently, watching the road again. Brooke glanced at his phone. He didn’t have a lock on it, and his picture was him and Jeremy posing with slushies. Michael’s was blue and Jeremy’s was red. She smiled at that, then paused.

 “What number?” she asked. He laughed again. He laughed a lot. Brooke liked that, it was nice.

 “Just go in my contacts, it’s the one labelled pizza.”

 Brooke found his contacts, tapped on it, and held the phone to her ear. As she ordered she noticed that Michael drove very carefully, much more carefully than it would appear at first glance. He checked every detail constantly and consistently and still was able to interact with her. She was admittedly much more reckless. If the countless nail polish stains on the console weren’t enough proof, the helter skelter mess of stuff in the back was. It was interesting. She watched as his hands stayed firm on the wheel, not having moved except to give her his phone. His knuckles were tight but not too tight. Not enough to turn pale, just enough to keep his grip secure.

 “Alright, pickup in fifteen,” she said, once she was finished. Michael nodded and they fell back into comfortable silence. A few moments passed and Michael pulled into a well lit lot.

 “So uh… You’re not gonna do the whole Breakfast Club thing where you ask if this will all still stick on Monday, right?” she asked, half kidding, half not. Michael rolled his eyes.

 “No. It’s dinner, Brooke, not marriage. It genuinely doesn’t matter if it goes anywhere.” He fiddled with his strings again. Brooke wondered if he did it whenever his hands were empty. She smiled at him.

 “Wow, so chicken pizza,” she said, changing the subject. “What an innovation.”

 “Give the girl a medal, she discovered chicken pizza,” Michael said, rolling his eyes good-naturedly.

 “No for real. This is such an innovation to me,” she giggled. “Move over, smartcars and bluetooth earbuds, chicken pizza is hot on the scene.”

 “Dumb blonde,” Michael joked.

 “Stoner,” Brooke jabbed back. Michael waved his hand dismissively.

 “You won’t be making fun of me for being a stoner when you’re chowing down on pizza that’s not just cheese. You’ll be thanking me. ‘Oh Michael, how did I ever live without your stoner’s knowledge of pizza?’”

 “Yeah and I’m the next queen of England.” Brooke stuck her tongue out.

 “Right. At least mine was realistic.” Michael ran his fingers through his hair, stealing a glance at the clock. “Eh. Five minutes or so. I’ll go in and wait. You want anything to drink?”

 “Lemonade, if you don’t mind. I can still pay-”

 “Nope.” Michael climbed out and closed the door, leaving the lights and heat on for her. She smiled.

 This was different. This was weird. And that was okay, despite this being their first time hanging out. It felt real. Like he didn’t expect something from her. For a minute she was the nerdy, bespectacled girl she’d been before Chloe, before Jeremy, and there was something immensely comforting about that. She waited for him to come back, and when he did he slid the pizza into her lap, making sure there was something to protect her fishnet-clad legs from the heat.

 The rest of the ride to Michael’s house was calm, with small bursts of conversation and more of the weirdly comfortable silence she had never experienced before. He was funny, and he made her laugh. And she wanted to make him laugh too. His laugh was warm and throaty and almost… homey. His laugh made Jeremy and the Halloween party and the bad taste in her mouth all disappear.

 He seemed to be waiting for something. She couldn’t tell what it was, but she hoped it wasn’t anything bad. She didn’t have bad in her tonight. She just had this, whatever this was. Friendship, maybe. Was there such a thing as a friendship one night stand? She didn’t know. But she guessed she would find out.  She looked at him, watching the moonlight play on his thick black hair and his glasses, watching the way his face looked weirdly jovial, even with as sad as he had been. Where before there had been a blank canvass, there was a person now. A person with laugh lines and eyes that watched the road like a hawk but never turned cold or hard.

A person she could imagine getting froyo with.

 A new person, who wasn’t a Chloe, and definitely wasn’t a Jeremy.


	2. Afterparty

Michael’s house was nice. Small, but painted neatly, with maroon painted shutters and cream colored walls. He had a porch, and a porch swing to go with it. It was so wonderfully homey, and she felt a pang of guilt that she’d expected something worse. A run down double wide, maybe, with covered windows. But it was normal, unlike everything else that had happened tonight.

Michael pulled Reese into the drive and quickly got out, going around to the other side and opening her door. She paused, but took it in stride, handing him the pizzas and slipping out, closing the door behind her. Michael looked at her, opened it again, and grabbed the blanket she’d been using, balancing the pizzas on his hip. She smiled when she realized it was for her. Michael closed and locked the door and went up to the house and let himself in. She followed, but hesitated at the door, a sinking feeling filling her suddenly.

She was going in a boy’s house. Michael Mell’s house, of all people. A boy she had never even spoken to before. And she was just going in like it was nothing. She paused at the door, Daniel heading into the lions’ den. This was something unprecedented, something unheard of. Something so big, she couldn’t see past it. She could feel herself falling into a panicky spiral. If Chloe knew she was here, her life would be over. If  _ anyone  _ knew she was here. Here with Michael Mell, after walking out on her best friend and the boy she was “supposed” to be with.

This was so, so wrong.

“Brooke.” Warm hands gently gripped her shoulders and she snapped back to the real world, realized she had been staring at the ground blankly. She looked up into Michael’s dark eyes.

“Huh? Oh, sorry. I uh-”

“You’re worried about this. It’s fine. I’m not gonna tell anyone you came by if you don’t want. I respect your privacy, even if I think your social status is a stupid reason. So, come on. The pizza’s getting cold… And so are you by the looks of it.” He slid his hand down her arm and showed her a patch of goosebumps from the chill.

Brooke nodded, taking a deep breath and pulling it together.

“Okay.”

“Okay.” Michael let her into the house, then followed, kicking his shoes off. Brooke looked around. Two dark wooden arches on either side of the entry led to a cozy, slightly cluttered living room on one side and a bright yellow kitchen on the other. A hallway led to what she assumed was a bathroom and a closed door. Maybe an office? The living room and hallway walls were a warm shade of red and the doors and floors looked like natural wood.

_ It was even homey-er inside _ , Brooke thought, biting her lip.

Michael glanced at her costume boots, drawing her attention back to him. “So uh… What are those exactly? I mean they’re cool, but they don’t look like anything I’ve ever seen.”

“Oh, just watch, it’s so neat!” Brooke perked up, and sat on the ground, slowly pulling out a pair of brown flats from underneath the fake fur and then slid the fur down as well, revealing her fishnet-clad legs. “I made the fur pieces myself, layered them over the flats so you couldn’t see the actual shoe parts.”

“You made that?” Michael leaned down and grabbed one of the leg pieces, going over the impeccable seams.

“Yep! I make a lot of costumes for local theatre productions and sometimes I make my own clothes too.” She set her flats neatly next to Michael’s haphazardly tossed shoes and then stood up again, taking the fur back. “I’ll put these away somewhere I’ll remember to take them home.”

“Nah, it’s fine, just bring ‘em with us. I won’t let you forget them.” He smiled at her, the same small smile from before, but more sure of itself this time. “Just gotta be a delivery boy first.”

“Michael? Is that you?” A voice called from upstairs. Michael rolled his eyes, but his smile grew and a dimple peeked out near his chin.

“Speak of the devil. Come on,” he said to her. She followed him up the stairs, and when they got to the top he opened the first door on the left, revealing an office piled high with paperwork and a tall handsome man in a suit.

“Delivery,” Michael said, knocking on the door playfully.

“Oh hey, boys, how was the party?” the man asked. “It’s nice to have you back Jeremy.” He absent-mindedly shuffled some papers and Michael snickered.

“Dad, this is Brooke,” he said, and his father instantly stopped what he was doing, looking at her. Confusion and surprise filled his eyes. He had the same eyes as Michael, warm and rich and kind.

“Oh… Well. Nice to meet you Brooke. I’m Antony.” He offered her his hand and Brooke hesitantly walked over and shook it. Michael followed and set the smaller pizza box on his desk.

“We’re headed down now. Don’t work too hard,” Michael said. Antony laughed.

“I’ll do my best. I’m in the middle of a particularly nasty divorce case. You have fun. Oh, there’s some Halloween candy downstairs for you, Michael.”

“Thanks dad. Night.” Michael hugged him and readjusted the blanket and pizza box in his arms. Brooke reached for the box but he shrugged her off. “Brooke I’ve got it. Come on, I’ll show you to the basement.”

“Basement?” she asked. He nodded, and the two went back downstairs and down the hall to the closed door she’d seen earlier. It opened to an empty white room with the same gorgeous hardwood floor and lots of windows. It was dark, but she could imagine it being flooded with light in the daytime. She resolved to come see it one day, then frowned internally. This was a one time thing. An aberration. It  _ couldn’t _ happen again.

“It’s finished. It’s got a bathroom and my bedroom and a living space… And candy, apparently,” he said with a small laugh. She tilted her head.

“That’s so cool. I’ve never met anyone who had their own floor before.”

“I don’t generally think of it as my own floor. Also, be warned- it’s not as nice as the rest of the house.” He opened a closet on the other side of the room, revealing another staircase.

“What’s this room then?” She asked. Michael shrugged.

“I don’t know. It’s been empty for as long as I can remember. I think my mom used to use it for something.”

“Your mom?” Brooke glanced at him. He looked pained.

“Yup.” He didn’t say anything else, but she watched his fingers drum nervously on the pizza box.

“Alright.” She hesitated, then reached out and gently squeezed his arm. He paused, almost unsurely, before smiling at her again. It was different than his other smiles. Colder. Brooke let the moment pass, not dwelling on his reaction beyond a touch of worry.

“It’s fine,” he said, waving the moment away before leading her down the stairs. “Watch your step.”

The basement opened into the living space he’d mentioned before. There was a squashy looking sofa covered in blankets and pillows, a small, scuffed up table, and a large TV with a shelf full of consoles and games and various accessories. Two doors on the other side of the basement marked the bathroom and bedroom. It was bathed in warm golden light from some mismatched lamps. None of the furniture matched, really. It was like a daydream; weird and chaotic and jumbled, but happy. Like being a little kid and planning out the rest of your life, thinking you could do and have whatever you wanted.

She felt soft inside. All the anxiety had melted away and she was as happy as a kitten resting in a sunny spot. If anything, the basement was better than even the house had been. Everything about him was homey and welcoming. From his personality to his own little space down here.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” Michael said, depositing the pizzas onto the table. He picked up a gorgeous white pipe with a rainbow pattern on it. “Do you mind?”

“Nuh uh.” Brooke sat on the sofa, and Michael sat next to her, lighting the pipe and taking a hit of it. He offered it to her and she declined politely, grabbing the blanket from off his shoulders and covering herself with it. Her fishnets and minidress weren’t really doing anything to keep her warm.

They were quiet for a moment, and Michael reached under the table and pulled out some of those animal shaped paper plates. Brooke brightened up even more and stifled a giggle.

“Are those ZooPals?” she asked. Michael laughed, rubbing the back of his neck, pink coloring his cheeks.

“Yeah. I bought a ton of them on Amazon a couple years ago. Once I stopped being able to find them in stores. I really liked them, and I’ve been eating off them ever since.”

“ZooPals are so fun. I was really sad when I stopped being able to find them. When I was a kid I always felt bad if I put anything in the smaller circles. Like, how dare I put ketchup in a lion’s ear. It doesn’t matter what he had on his face that I was eating off, but the ears? That was just crossing a line.” Brooke let out the laughter she’d been holding in and took a plate from him. It was a frog and she touched the vivid green cardboard, remembering hot days in Nevada, picnicking and baking under the sun. Eating cucumbers and little sandwiches off faces just like this one.

“Sounds like little you was a nerd,” Michael teased.

“You don’t know the half of it,” Brooke agreed. Michael scooped up two slices of pizza and put them on her plate before grabbing three for himself. They both dug in and Brooke sighed happily.

“Wow… That chicken is so good. Needs a bit more of a kick but this is the only time I’ve ever really liked something on my pizza.”

“And what do we say?” Michael smirked.

“Oh Michael, how did I ever live without your stoner’s knowledge of pizza?” Brooke grumbled. Michael laughed again.

“And don’t you ever forget it.” They ate in silence after that, Brooke finishing her plate and then feeling comfortable enough around Michael to grab a third and finish that too. And Michael grabs a fourth and then slides the box away, leaving one last piece in the box.

Without food to focus on, they sit in the shiny golden light, thinking. Brooke’s mind went through the day’s events, picking them apart a bit more rationally. Michael occasionally hit off his pipe and, she assumed, picked his day apart like she did hers.

“So you like spicy stuff, huh?” Michael eventually asked, breaking the silence. Brooke nodded, playing idly with the hem of the blanket. She saw him playing with his hoodie strings again. It was back to being weird. Being awkward. Determined to change that, she turned to face him more directly, bringing her knees up to the couch.

“Yeah, a lot. You should see the collection of hot sauces I have at home,” she said, tucking her hair behind her ear. She cringed a little as her tights caught. Michael noticed.

“Are you alright? Um… Do you want some clothes? My stuff might be too big but it’s bound to be more comfy than that. Craftsmanship aside, of course.”

“You’d let me wear your clothes?” She tilted her head, searching his face for some sign of a joke. Not even Chloe swapped clothes with her. It felt strange. Intimate in a way. Weird, slightly anxious feelings filled her stomach.

“Yeah. I mean you don’t have to, but you just look… Like you’re not really happy in them.” Michael grimaced. “I’m not being weird, I swear. I just hate when people are at my house and not as comfortable as possible. I keep clothes here in Jeremy’s size but I’ve never had you here before so I wasn’t really able to prepare-”

“Nonono, it’s fine,” Brooke insisted, her eyes wide, interrupting Michael’s train of thought. “Don’t feel bad! I’m just not used to being treated this way is all.” The words felt flimsy but Michael nodded, relaxing a bit.

“Oh… Well, it’s really no issue. A t-shirt and some sweats will work, right? If you want. You don’t have to. Really. I just wanted to offer and-”

“Yes. Yes. Please. It’ll be nice to get this off.” The words filled the air between them and Brooke flushed, stuttering slight. “The clothes. And into other clothes. I’m sorry. This is so  _ weird. _ I’m sorry. Oh gosh.” She hid her face in her hands.

“Geez… Okay. I’ll get the clothes,then you can go in the bathroom and put them on? Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” Michael stood up, slipping into the bedroom which looked just as mismatched as the living space. She heard him rustling through some drawers and then came out, holding a bundle in his arms. She got up to join him at the bathroom door, taking the bundle and closing the door behind her.

She had to get it together. There was no reason for her to feel so nervous. Michael had already promised not to say anything. It was just clothes. She was the same person without them as she was with them. There was no invisible line she was somehow crossing. A friendship one night stand. She was here. She was having a good time. For fuck’s sake, she’d had ZooPal plates. How awesome was that? And she was freaking out about clothes that weren’t even being forced on her. All night long he’d been focused on her and her comfort. Making sure she didn’t get in an accident, making sure she was well-fed. And she was gonna freak out over clothes? No. Not tonight. Chloe and her doctrine were not going to win tonight. She was.

She carefully removed the dress, keeping in in pristine condition, then rolled the fishnets down her legs. Her thighs thanked her. They were a lot thicker than the rest of her and the fabric hurt her if she sat in weird positions in fishnets and tights and what have you. She stood for a moment in her underwear, letting her body breathe.

Sometimes she missed Nevada where she walked around in shorts and tank tops without even thinking about it. Here she felt… different. Chloe had pointed out her hips and thighs when they’d met and she’d covered them more after that. Not to mention how much colder New Jersey was. But she didn’t really want to think about that either.

 Michael had given her a white shirt with the words Joy Division on it and a pair of grey sweats. She assumed Joy Division were a band. The mountainous pattern on the shirt was the same as the one on the back of his hoodie. It looked soft and worn. She slowly pulled it over her head, letting the cotton come to rest on her. It was one of the most comfortable things she’d ever worn. She wished she had a blanket that soft.

The sweats were nice too, fleeced on the inside. It was like wearing a winter day curled up by a fire with hot chocolate and a good book. Or at least, what she assumed that was like. She was a summer baby and winter was a universally sucky experience for her. She smiled to herself, gathering her clothes and going back out to the sofa. Michael had turned on a Wii and was absentmindedly making a Mii character. A girl with blonde hair.

“Is that me?” she asked, startling him. He nodded.

“Yeah. I figured we could play Wii Sports or something. I didn’t think you’d want to play Mario or Pokemon or anything.”

“Wii Sports is good.” She sat down next to him again. Michael had found the candy and emptied into a bowl. She helped herself to a peanut butter cup.

“What game do you want to play?” he asked. She shrugged.

“I like baseball. Anything but boxing and golf though, really.”

“Baseball it is.” He handed her another remote and they started to play.

Twenty minutes later, the announcer spoke. “And that’s the game!”

“What the hell?” Michael asked as she got a mercy rule and won with a fifteen point lead. His shocked face made her whole night.

“I told you I liked baseball,” she smirked.

“It’s on now,” he said, and they played baseball for hours.

“You were wrong you know,” Brooke said around four am, her words soft and slurred.

“About what?” Michael asked, focused on his next swing. Her ball rolled onto the virtual plate and struck him out.

“The basement… It’s so nice. Not like a basement at all. Like a home. I love it here…” she trailed off, her grip on the remote loosening. Michael smiled, and his next swing was a home run.

As the night wore on, Brooke got more and more tired. It was so late and she was so drained from the day. She didn’t want to move. She wanted to stay here, playing the Wii with Michael where she was happy.  _ One more game _ , she kept telling herself.  _ One more game and I’ll go home _ . Her body turned to lead, and eventually, she leaned back against the couch.

_ I’m gonna rest a minute _ , she tried to say, but the words stuck in her throat like peanut butter. Michael said something to her that she didn’t quite catch. She was so warm and the sofa was so comfortable. And she felt like herself, and not just somebody to push around. She curled up and closed her eyes, fully intending to keep playing a few moments later.

The last thing she remembered was Michael pulling a blanket over her shoulders and leaving her, the lamps and TV long turned off and the room dark and quiet.

And she slept wonderfully.


End file.
